Joker: Folie à Deux, A Decent Musical That Descended into Madness

A daring yet sobering example not to overload your ending. Or obliterate the voice you gave to the voiceless.

CONTENT WARNING!

This post contains sensitive material that may not be suitable for all readers. The material in question includes:

- Mental health topics (suicide, addiction, etc.)
- Political topics
- Sexual and suggestive content
- Mentions of rape
- Bad language
- Graphic violence
- Frightening imagery

The Fleck Connection
Back to Square One
The Couple's Court
The End of the Joke (and the Voice)

The Fleck Connection

“The worst part of having a mental illness is that people expect you to behave as if you don’t.”

– The journal of Arthur Fleck.

Who in their right mind would add a smiley face to the end of that? Apparently the not-so-right-minded lead of a film that hit me at just the right time. Just as games like Max Payne 3 and Red Dead Redemption II spoke to me as I was transitioning into college—meanwhile, I was still grieving over the high school friend I’ve referenced to no end here—but funny enough, I was left feeling somewhat understood by two protagonists named Arthur, one year apart. Granted, there are very few actual facets of Arthur Morgan’s life in RDR2 that I can relate to in a literal sense aside from his past with Mary Linton, and even then, there was an actual romance between them, something I never took the chance to establish with my friend. No, see, because the latter Arthur was mentally ill, unable to find love as easily, and acting as the origin of quite possibly my favorite comic book character of all time, I’m only about ninety-seven-percent sure that’s the Arthur I’ve connected the most with.

This is not a generally relatable character we’re talking about here, given it was more or less an attempt to humanize that strange man you see on the subway, but that’s what Todd Phillips’s Joker did right—its lead was written to be intelligent and personable to an extent where a general audience could perfectly understand him and the obvious weight of his unusual struggles. Even when he stalked his neighbor, he realized what he was doing and turned back, even coming off as ashamed to admit it to her afterwards, which is a length that not even films of higher acclaim like Saint Maud would go to as a means of solidifying the moral high ground of their leads. In other words, Arthur Fleck never smacked a dying cancer patient across the face on her birthday for joking that he’s too religious. More than anything, though, his grievances like those communicated in the diary entry offered above echoed my feelings of abandonment and misrepresentation as someone who, sure, isn’t nearly as handicapped, but still had such volumes spoken to him that the way the character naturally and believably progressed into a comic book and pop culture villain as iconic as the Joker was just icing on the cake. Moreover, it was a grueling film to take in, as it was for the majority of its crew and audience (except for RedLetterMedia, I guess, as their Half in the Bag episode on it has time and time again encouraged me to write an upcoming post about them), but it’s one that I’m able to soak in today without a harsh reaction.

For a psychological thriller directed by the guy behind The Hangover, I consider Joker to be one of the most profound and marvelously directed films of all time, although I would call certain movies (and even games, for that matter) better-written for how on-the-nose this one can be at times. What I can say with full conviction, though, is that it is one of the weirdest and most unconventional comic book films, especially for DC, to ever be made, but it’s a format that works in the grim detective-noir world of Batman. In fact, it’s almost written in mockery of Batman, given the source material’s often less-than-flattering portrayals of the same poor and mentally unstable criminals this movie hands the narrative over to. Of course, it does subtly commentate on mass shooters and other unfortunate directions the mentally ill often take in this country—Arthur literally gets lent a revolver after being jumped and beaten at the very beginning, which even he states shouldn’t be allowed—and the recent VR game Batman: Arkham Shadow tries to see through the eyes of criminals more than is typical in Batman‘s history, but who knows? Maybe, this movie was a footnote as far as portrays of criminals go in comics. Either that or the screenwriter read Batman: Nöel, which was all about Batman learning to let go of his grudge towards his penniless targets.

A long-winded introduction? Yes. More so than usual? Very. Still, it makes sense to divulge my history with the first movie up front, as it directly contributes to my feelings toward this one. Although the first movie is a nasty, miserable, unflinching character study of a man consistently let down by ableism and the inner-city mental health support system in place, it’s also consistently bittersweet, as there are actually far more moments of humor and levity than in The Killing Joke‘s Joker origin story, which most fans consider to be his definitive backstory—that backstory was mostly pure, distilled misery. This is why, as I expressed in my Joker and Harley Quinn post here, it’s pretty much the exact tone I was hoping for in a Joker origin movie. Plus, it ends with him more or less getting what he wanted, that being a place to belong, and it bookends the essence that the opening established: that this whole story is like a Charlie Chaplin version of La La Land, in which a feel-good old-school comedy is repeatedly stuck with a brutal dose of reality and the happy-go-lucky lead is forever trapped in an inescapable prison of inequality. Because of that, giving him a love story with Harley Quinn would give him a place to grow and extend beyond a mob boss and social justice icon in the making, even if the first movie feels so open-and-shut that a sequel really isn’t required—if you’re going to make a sequel, which you don’t necessarily need to, that’s an appropriate way to go with one.

Any problems I have are in the execution.

Back to Square One

Now, obviously, I’m a little late to the game when it comes to talking about this movie, but as YouTube film critic Ryan Hollinger explained in his video on Winnie the Pooh: Blood and Honey (you can check that out here), he did aim to explore that movie with an open mind later on, removed from all the backlash… only to realize how well-deserved it was. Of course, that’s not to say this movie is anywhere close to as bad or disingenuous as that one. It just feels too overstuffed with ideas and poor story direction, plus a hint of… well… a lack of sufficient creative and emotional investment by those involved. After all, it was a movie I was honestly interested in seeing, and that doesn’t happen much with most artistic mediums anymore, including movies, games, books, and even music. Besides, I’ve waited for it to come out on streaming to even publish this for reasons that will make sense by the end. For now, though, let’s get into where our kingpin-to-be has been since the rather Scooby-Doo-inspired final shot of the first movie.

Oh. He’s… back to… where he… started. Kind of.

To be fair, I was worried about that since the first trailer dropped, so I knew it was coming, but that doesn’t make it any less jarring. I understand from a screenwriting perspective why a decision like that would be made, as you need somewhere for him to grow, but as mediocre as The Last Jedi was, a loss of faith in the Jedi was something new for Luke Skywalker. He wasn’t reverted back to a peppy farm boy. Anywho, Arthur’s being held at Arkham State Hospital while awaiting trial for murder, but while Arkham in the first movie seemed like your standard inner-city psych ward, this iteration is basically just Rikers Island. The parallels to the classic comic portrayal of Arkham Asylum are clear, as it’s an island facility with ruthless security and arguably even more deplorable conditions. Given we see him attempting to escape at the end of the first movie, and since the Arkham we saw back then wasn’t as awful, I’d suggest not even starting at Arkham and instead focusing on him building an empire. I mean, sure, that’s where Joker traditionally meets Harley, but she’s not even his therapist in this, so why bother? Regardless, he’s dehumanized by the guards as one would expect, with a shaky friendship appearing to form between him and one guard in particular named Jackie. This is where, when Harvey Dent shows up on the news to announce that he expects to hold Arthur accountable to the full extent of the law, the first musical number begins, and… I’ll tell you, given the quality and energy of the numbers to come, this was not a promising start. It’s clear that Joaquin Phoenix was trying to sound raspy—he just about perfected Johnny Cash’s impossible-to-replicate singing voice in Walk the Line, so he can sing well—but his movements here feel awkward and restrained by his environment, and it’s just not the right point in the story to fit a musical number into. I mean, you know it’s foundered when the hauntingly modified version of “That’s Life” that played before it was far lighter on the eyes and ears.

Next stop, music therapy! Wow, glad the city didn’t cut the funding for that! Now, most would expect Harley, nicknamed “Lee” in this iteration, to be the instructor as opposed to a patient, but regardless, she shows him a smirk and a shot-to-the-head gesture as he walks by in a scene prior. After the first session he attends, they have a meet cute where she claims to come from more or less the same background and that she’s looked up to him since his arrest. Honestly, this is the start of my agreement with the consensus that Lady Gaga was very much wasted, but hey—they don’t quite shit the bed with her ’til the ending. Then, during a screening of the 1953 Fred Astaire musical The Band Wagon, namely the number “That’s Entertainment!” with a recurring presence in this movie, Lee starts up a fire as an excuse to spiral the hospital into chaos and stage a breakout attempt with Arthur, which results in a musical number that honestly makes up for the previous. They get thrown in solitary, though, so it didn’t do them much good. We learn she’s getting let out after she’s… somehow allowed in his cell, so the most Harley Quinn thing imaginable happens: she applies his signature clown makeup to him so the two can have a hardcore sex scene. What an awkward father-son movie night!

The Couple’s Court

After a news interview where an at first skittish Arthur gives the interviewer a run for his money for trying to provoke him, the trials can commence, and you can bet your ass Lee shows up in a pinch. His attorney exposes the thin skin of the psychiatrist at the stand who Harvey Dent barely questions, thus making her stance clear that the Joker was another personality of Arthur’s that took over on the night he (spoilers!) blasted Robert De Niro’s brain matter across his own set on live TV. This is actually a concept raised in the true beginning of the film, a very old-school Loony Tunes-style cartoon segment titled “Me and My Shadow” that I actually quite liked for the combination of cartoon logic and bloody, realistic violence. I’m sure the psychological concept of one’s “shadow” acting as the titular motif in Arkham Shadow is just a ginormous coincidence. Regardless, Lee barges in after the trial to let loose at the attorney over this, proclaiming that Arthur and the Joker are one in the same and swearing a cryptic oath that the two are going to “build a mountain out of a little hill”. Thus, a nasty taste about Lee is left in the attorney’s mouth, and one easy fix for the ending is hinted at early on.

More important than anything, though, is the surprisingly effective twist the attorney drops on Arthur at his cell: Lee’s upbringing was affluent and she’d previously gone to grad school for psychiatry. Sure, it would factor in the notion from the New 52 and onwards that Harleen Quinzel was this brilliant psychologist with a promising future cut short instead of… you know… just some gullible intern with a deeply unhealthy tendency, but it would counter this meek and dejected version of Joker to have her manipulating him as opposed to the other way around. At that point in, I was honestly onboard with this idea, as it also maintains the classic premise of Harley being more or less just as disturbed as Joker. Hell, she even divulges the fact that she took ownership of his mother’s old apartment so they can live together once he’s out, in case there were any doubts about her morbid attachment to him. Granted, we get the very strange reveal that she’s pregnant—another nonsensical development that goes nowhere—but thank god that leads into one of the first oddly surreal imaginary musical numbers, a couple of which made up the bulk of the film’s best moments for me. In this bit that I swear was inspired by Late Night With the Devil, they show up as ultra ’70s talk show hosts, with Joker in his three-piece suit from the first movie and Harley dressed like she’s straight out of the Poppy Family. Their singing’s disrupted by a very witty sitcom argument coupled with a laugh track, and when he expresses disappointment with the direction she’s taking the show in—a direct tie to what’s really happening—she settles it by suggesting that they “give the people what they want”, which obviously means she shoots him square in the abs. *sigh* This film’s going to torment me with my own past rejections, isn’t it?

Numbers that surpass it factor into the subsequent witness testimonies, both of said witnesses being major characters from the first movie: Sophie, the girl Arthur thought he was in love with, and his fellow clown Gary who (you better get used to limitless spoilers at this point) watched him viciously slaughter Randall. Some might complain about the number of callbacks to the first movie, but we receive previously unknown information from Sophie’s testimony while Gary lets spill at Arthur—who’s allowed to show up in his signature makeup, so take that as you will—about how deeply Randall’s death had traumatized him and, as the fantastic performance emphasizes, Arthur was the only other clown to never make him the ass of a joke. The best part? The two best musical numbers and, to that effect, the best parts of the movie are introduced through these testimonies. We’re led inside Arthur’s mind as Sophie recounts his mother telling her that his uncontrollable laughter was just some childish, desperate cry for attention, which puts his mother in a different light even as the public has no idea she was murdered by her own son… in which case, she was clearly suffocated to death, and the coroner would’ve been able to tell that. Regardless, a grim blues number starts with him sitting alone in the dark before going absolutely bonkers in a number called “The Joker” (no, not by the Steve Miller Band), and as a fan of Joker’s wild and flamboyant energy, this was honestly a joy for me. We basically see everyone in the courtroom but Lee left frozen and unresponsive, giving him carte blanche to shoot and batter them to the tune of the music, including the shot of him bludgeoning the judge to death with his own gavel from the trailer. After this, and after some playful back-and-forth with Lee, he blows his own brains out with a smile, and we snap back to the film’s repulsive, unforgiving reality. Thank god there’s not too much space between that and the other number.

Oddly, in his clown makeup, Arthur’s allowed to question Gary in the place of his attorney, which the judge allows under the condition that he doesn’t turn the courtroom into a circus (sure, it’s partly because of all his supporters in the jury, but I still don’t know why he’d trust him with that.) He puts on a goofy accent and cadence in true Joker fashion as he pummels Gary with questions regarding the Murray Franklin incident. He then proceeds with a mockery of the guards at Arkham who make his life a living hell, with Jackie’s offended response to hearing it on TV suggesting that nothing good’s to come. He concludes it on a grand and proud note with his supporters applauding and him strolling out with Lee under his arm, which results in another number that turns her promise of “building a mountain” into the most high-energy segment of the film. It shows the two clowns getting married with Gary as the best man, which erupts into a jazzy gospel number where we get the bride on the piano and the groom tap-dancing. It only loosely ties into the narrative, but hey, it’s a fun moment between the two leads, and the rest of this movie doesn’t leave me with much more to work with.

He returns to Arkham pending the last trial and final verdict with a confident smile and “Dancing in the Moonlight” playing behind him, but of course, there’s the matter of Jackie’s displeasure. Now, as I said, my ability to connect with the character of Arthur in the first movie—plus the relative levity compared to even the alternate takes on Joker’s origins that I’ve long been familiar with—has allowed me to stomach even the toughest sequences, and they do get absolutely harrowing. That was then, though, as this was the part of the movie that I, along with mostly everyone else, was so sickened by that I legitimately wanted to leave the theater. Whether it’s simply provocative or a step out of line can be debated over day and night, but you may have seen that production still of Arthur being viciously dragged away by three Arkham guards. Well, if you can believe it, it results in them smashing his face against the wall, knocking him out, carrying him to the bathroom, and gang-raping him before tossing him into solitary. Yep, that still carries a whole different energy now, doesn’t it? Even worse is that he’d previously developed somewhat of a bond with a scrawny fellow patient, and the reason I haven’t already brought him up is because he’s one of the many ideas in the film that are too underdeveloped to even deserve inclusion. Regardless, he told Arthur in the yard towards the beginning that he heard he was a great kisser, immediately after which Arthur smooched him on the lips and walked away as a more promising indicator of what was to come. A brief prison riot scene—again, these ideas just aren’t given enough time—saw him empowered by Arthur again, and after this, uh… unforeseeable nightmare on the screen, he screams at the guards over what they’d just done, and Jackie responds by pulling him out of his cell and strangling him to death. Meanwhile, all a violated Arthur can do is lie face-first in darkness and listen.

Hope you’ve all had a great Halloween!

The End of the Joke (and the Voice)

“Bad days… well, the thing is, I’ve had… a few too many.”

– Joker in the pre-alpha of Batman: Arkham Origins.

This is it, ladies and jokermen. I mean, gentlemen. Or whoever bothers to read this. This is where the entire movie comes fully apart, but as I suggested earlier, there is a very easy fix that, if implemented, could’ve left it somewhere close to as satisfying as the last one’s. I’ll leave it up to you whether keeping it unsatisfying was the point all along, but I at least know Christopher Nolan wasn’t a fan of it. Although Lee shows up in what should’ve been her definitive Harley Quinn disguise, Arthur’s testimony during the last trial before the final verdict paints an entirely different picture, as he seemingly confirms his attorney’s initial presumption regarding his split personality. Left an empty, hollow shell, he takes a seat in front of the jury, confesses about having killed his mother, and announces that Arthur Fleck and the Joker are not the same man, that he will never be fit for that persona. Thus, as he tears up, his supporters rest in stunned silence, and Lee storms out in disappointment. Yeah, ha ha ha. Go ahead and joke that I knew how she felt while watching this, but you’re, uh… only partially accurate with that. I wanted to storm out in response to what happens after. Once Lee’s made it back home, he calls her up, asking for forgiveness and that he hopes to see her when his verdict is reached, a message she listens to while contemplating suicide.

The final verdict is reached, and even though he seemed to have confirmed his attorney’s presumption to them, the jury still unanimously declares him guilty, and amidst his impulsive laughter, he’s tackled by a raging spectator, the courthouse erupts into chaos, and then? Smoke, ashes, and cinders. The courthouse is left a mass of caved-in ruins, and the mushroom cloud of the car bomb that had just gone off outside rises well over the rooftops beyond. The only one alive, as far as we know, is Arthur (save for Harvey Dent, that is, who… well, you know what happens to him, but I differ from everyone else rolling their eyes by instead uttering a reluctant “whatever”), who crawls out of the rubble with his coat gray with ash and his makeup barely visible. Of course, before he can make it out, he freezes, gazing up at the pale haze taking the place of the crumbled wall. The camera twirls around in true ballerina fashion to face him, and the corners of his mouth lift. Bam. Cut to black. Cue Lady Gaga’s cover of “That’s Life.” Credits.

Oh. Uh… sorry, I… *sigh* …I must’ve repressed the memory of what really happened. Guess I can always dream, can’t I?

No, try as I might to deny it, that is not how the movie ends. If it was, however, it would’ve (a) left us with the hope that a chance with Lee still exists, (b) brought an ironically literal bookend to her promise of “building a mountain,” and (c) acted as a reasonably subtle nod to her original “Mad Love” backstory, namely her blowing Joker’s cell open so they can run off together. I mean… the tagline for the movie was “he’s not alone anymore,” after all. The most baffling part of it, though? That car bomb? She did not set that off, or at least it’s never suggested that she did. Perhaps, she intended it to kill Arthur, but she doesn’t seem surprised after the fact that it didn’t, and in the end, it really doesn’t matter, as I’m about to get into. Final warning, spoilers ahead. Instead, he stumbles outside and gets spotted by a twisted fan dressed up as him, who leads him over to a buddy, shoves him into the back of their car, and speeds off. Both buddies drone on to each other about how exhilarating the whole scenario is, plus going all Columbine about the “retribution” they’ll be delivering, all before getting stuck in traffic. So, while there’s time, a frazzled Arthur busts out, commencing a chase between him and the two crazed fans as they scream out to him, “WE LOVE YOU, JOKER!” Now, considering this is in the last, like, ten minutes—not to mention Todd Phillips himself was candid about this—I’m going to go out on a limb and say this movie was not meant as a commentary slamming jealous and incel-ish Joker enthusiasts, although I would not be offended or frustrated if it was the case. I can save my frustration for the very end.

He scurries up the famous steps to his apartment to find Lee with her new look, that being her black and white diamond pattern and drugged-up hooker makeup working as one to make her look like a fucking wreck. Although he’s elated to see her, she refuses to even look him in the eye, proceeding to admit their love was all just a game and that he’d ruined it. With his teary-eyed confession. Partly about something she never held against him. After being gang-raped in prison. Thus, he starts to shrivel up again, begging for her forgiveness, but she weakly sings “That’s Entertainment!” to herself while he desperately tries to get her to stop what she’s doing. Then, she strolls away up the stairs, the police arrive to arrest him, and he’s driven off with utter vacancy in his aimless stare. Guess between this, Suicide Squad: Kill the Justice League, Birds of Prey, Batman & Harley Quinn, and all the other Harley Quinn dreck over the years, there’s officially no take on the DC Universe where anything between these two exists. Even when it’s a violated, heartbroken emotional wreck she’s giving the middle finger to. Thank god for the comic run I’ll be getting into shortly. Regardless, back at Arkham, Arthur’s left deflated but medicated, with Jackie even giving him a grubby smirk as he walks past so the audience is certain about getting a refund for their tickets. He’s told he has a visitor, but on the way, he’s stopped by a smarmy and upbeat patient who wants to tell him a joke. Said joke ends with “you get what you fucking deserve,” exactly as Arthur told Murray before killing him, and he shanks Arthur about eighteen times in the stomach. Thus, a continuation of the ’70s talk show daydream is revealed of Joker singing to Harley while bleeding out from the gunshot, and the real Arthur dies painfully while the new Joker-to-be cackles in the corner. Okay, now, it can end to the tune of Lady Gaga’s “That’s Life” cover, and I sure hope a refund’s available for the three digital copies I paid for but couldn’t record thanks to DRM.

Where do we even start with that?! As the title insinuates, this wasn’t quite a disaster like the popular consensus proclaims it to be, but that’s mostly because I’m too emotionally conflicted to treat it as such. Fine ideas are there, and the direction and atmosphere are both perfectly up-to-par with the first movie. The failure is that there’s (a) a lack of investment with fleshing out all the characters; (b) many, many elements and characters simply don’t need to be there; and (c) the ending comes off all too much like it… well… didn’t have any idea how to end. Of course, general audiences would mostly agree with that assessment, but many theater-goers walked out early on because the musical format was off-putting to them. Meanwhile, that was the strongest part of the film for me, as it provided enough levity to tonally match the first movie even if a couple numbers felt weak and unnecessary. Ultimately, though, the weakest part was how the first movie showed a man at the bottom of the social ladder painstakingly climb his way up to the man himself, the Clown Prince of Chaos and the Jester of Genocide. Sure, feel free to knock him down at the start of this movie—it gives Lee a reason to become a part of his life—but instead of keeping him on the rise, it only perpetuates the hopelessness that the first movie ultimately challenged. It ends with a shrug and the cynical mindset of, “eh. This guy’s pathetic. There’s nowhere for him to go.” So, while the first movie was mildly empowering for showing that same guy triumphing, if indeed in a heinous and tragic manner, it also painted a fresh portrait of how someone as whacky and famed yet unspeakably disturbed as the Joker is born. Here, though, it was disheartening as someone who’d just gone through another rejection, as it chose to depict someone who not only fails at love, but also gets gruesomely murdered without a single soul who would miss him—after all, he’d just let all of his followers down prior, and for something he admitted in a state of trauma-inflicted shock and despair. You know, as if he needed to suffer even more for having gotten raped in custody, in which case I’m only grateful that we didn’t have to see it. In the simplest possible terms, it didn’t do a whole lot to quell my sadder and more reflective mindset as of late.

Yet, to leave this on a somewhat positive note, there were some creative innovations of mine that its downward dip happened to inspire. See, I’ve referenced in vagaries in the past that one of my many writing projects at the moment is a comic run titled ElectroVerse: Batman, but I haven’t gotten too much into what that entails. Well, basically, it exists in the world of my life’s work ElectroNuke and turns Batman into a cryptid of Gotham, an armored creature of the night that prioritizes psychological warfare tactics over brute force and martial arts. It features less superhero action than is typical and zeroes in on the detective-noir angle, with Batman learning to let go of his vengeful grudge and more ethically psychoanalyze his prey. Between a plague doctor mask-clad Robin who grew up in poverty, a more flamboyant Nightwing than ever who comes to confront his sexuality, a comedy show host version of Joker talking like Humphrey Bogart with a smoker’s cough, Scarecrow inspired by John Noble’s rendition and Freddy Krueger, Killer Croc as a feral man who hunts based on instinct alone, Riddler as both an obsessive smartass and deranged DIY kidnapper, and Hugo Strange as a Social Darwinist trying to weed out Arkham patients’ symptoms through torture, the goal is to do something as dark and grounded as possible while staying true to the source material. Obviously, it’s a take more fit for DC’s Black Label than a mainstream run like Future State, and I was hoping that seeing Joker: Folie à Deux would revitalize my interest in writing it. Instead, after watching it? I’ve never wanted to write it more, especially with the issues focused on Joker and Harley (the first three issues after the prologue are focused on Hugo Strange, Joker, and Catwoman in that order as a nod to the first issue of Batman‘s initial run in 1940.)

The second major innovation is the surprise I teased back in the last post. Instead of giving in and leaving this as the first movie’s continuation, I hatched the idea to take its strongest moments and sprinkle them across the first movie’s end credits as a mid-credits epilogue of sorts, including rousing numbers like “The Joker” and “Gonna Build a Mountain”. While I understand the possibility of a copyright takedown’s always looming regardless of fair use, I can show you a collection of clips from that ending down below to give you a rough idea of how it’s edited, even if I can’t share the full cut. It’s almost fifty-three minutes, after all.

Speaking of projects, I’m gonna need an escape after recalling all this. Or two. Or fifteen. We’ll see where the week takes us.